Stargirl
by Snow Tempest
Summary: Our scene begins with... well, me. I've been in a coma for the past fifty years, kept alive by my regeneration and anti-aging abilities, and I've awoken to a world that I no longer call home. In secret, I have taken up civilian life again, keeping my identity hidden even from Overwacth agents, including Aleksandra Zaryanova.
1. Chapter 1

I woke to a world that I didn't— no— couldn't recognize as my own.

I was told by a giant Ape wearing glasses upon my awakening that I had been in a coma for the past fifty years, and that my body had come under their care only recently as a gesture from the United States Government.

They, being the 'peacekeeping organization' called Overwatch, which had evidently been formed by the United Nations, disbanded, and then illegally formed again in the present day.

I, under normal circumstances would never believe this, but seeing as I was talking to an incredibly intelligent and be-speckled ape and I wasn't on drugs; I chose to accept this as my current reality.

"What happened to the hospital I was in? Why am I not there now?" I asked, looking around some more at the white curtains and machines I was no longer hooked up too.

"Upon discovering your… unique condition, and the death of all of your living blood relatives, you were handed over to the United States Government for… research purposes."

"What did they do to me while I was out?" I asked; an edge to my voice.

"They mostly took blood samples to try and figure out your condition."

"Condition this, condition that! What are you talking about?"

Winston sighed and rubbed his brown in a very human gesture.

"Perhaps it is best to show you." He sighed, reaching over to the bedside table to withdraw a simple hand-mirror. He held it up in front of my face.

"Did you ever wonder why you always looked younger than everyone in your class? Or your age? The cells in your body are wired strangely; they are in this continuous cycle of healing and repairing themselves.

Once humans hit twenty two their brains begin decaying along with their bodies, as Dr. Ziegler likes to put it, 'Death is the disease of mortals'. You, when you sleep, heal yourself again. The more you sleep, the easier it is for you perpetually twenty two."

I shakily regarded my appearance in the mirror as I listened to him explain.

I was looking at my face.

I was supposed to be eighty, but I looked just the same as I did yesterday. Except my hair was ridiculously long from, I guess, not being cut for eighty years.

"Hey, Winston, was it?" I began softly, my eyes falling from my reflection to look at the hands folded in my lap, "What's happened since I was out?"

Winston laughed and said, "Too much to explain at the moment, but let me leave you with the knowledge that you will be cared for with a stipend from Overwatch and an apartment almost wherever you wish."

"Hmm, pretty sweet setup for someone who was rudely experimented on while in a coma."

Winston shrugged apologetically, "It is what it is. We cannot change the past anymore than we'd like to." He sighed, seeming to get lost in thought for a moment, and then he cleared his throat. "We do have one condition upon your release."

"And what's that?" I asked dryly.

He fidgeted, seeming uncomfortable with the following request,

"You must keep everything about your past hidden; who you are, when you were born, the affiliation with the American Government, Overwatch, everything."

"Are you serious? What would you do if I refused?"

"I don't want to seem rude, but Overwatch would have to kill you."


	2. Chapter 2

Zarya usually didn't care for these types of places, but at least the view was nice.

The waitress was wearing a crop top and shorts in the middle of Southern California heat. It was an unusual sight, especially in Russia. These days called for armor, or covering up. The American southwest seemed to have missed the hint entirely.

Zarya looked on as the cute waitress in the old-fashioned western diner clicked her pen and grinned.

"What can I get'cha?" She asked cheerfully, clearly eyeing Zarya's bruises.

Zarya didn't even get the chance to open her mouth before the waitress cut her off, "I reckon you could use a drink on the house, you look somethin' fierce banged up like that."

The girl turned away to yell for the man behind the bar to pass her a cold one.

The man woke up from his apparent nap under his hat and reached under the bar to grab a cold beer and slide it across the counter into the waiting hand of the waitress, who brought it back to Zarya and popped the cap off.

"This one's on me, Doll." She said with a wink, placing the bottle on the tall table.

Zarya eyed the waitress's cheery expression, seeing no ill intent; she plucked the bottle from the table and brought it to her lips.

Ah yes, cheep watery American beer; not exactly the best kind of reward after a tough fight, but it would have to do.

"Do you have anything stronger than this?" Zarya asked, bringing the empty bottle to the table once it had been drained within seconds.

"Yes, Ma'am." The waitress chuckled. "We got good old whiskey and some moonshine made by ol' Buzz over there." She jerked her thumb behind her shoulder.

The man behind the counter gave a groggy wave at the call of his name.

"What'll it be, Doll? Anything to eat with?"

Zarya grinned back at the waitress and said, "I am quite fond of American breakfast menus, do you have one?"

The girl laughed a surprised laugh and grabbed a laminated card from another table and passed it to Zarya.

"Here you are: the breakfast menu! Sorry we didn't have one at your table, Ma'am."

Zarya scanned the items listed at tried to find something recognizable.

Her ability to read without automatic translation was good, but she didn't know what the hell an 'omelet' was.

"I will have a hash brown… with eggs." She concluded, passing the menu back to the waitress, who nodded and scribbled down her order.

"Anything to drink?"

"Some milk, _pozhaluysta_."

As she wrote that down as well, the waitress commented, "I knew from your voice, but, you aren't exactly from around here, are you?"

"Not exactly," Zarya answered vaguely.

"Mind telling me what Russian weightlifting champion, military star, and radiant beauty Zarya is doing in the American southwest?"

"You are informed." Zarya said in surprise, her eyebrows rising slightly.

"I watch the news, Doll." The waitress said with a chuckle. "Nowadays everything is about Overwatch and the new Omnic Crisis. News cannot be ignored forever, even when you live out here in the boonies. And you are quite the celebrity and also quite the looker— as if I could not notice such a woman."

Zarya felt a flush rise on the back of her neck and almost creep up onto her cheeks, but she forced it down with a ceiling of her throat.

The waitress shrugged, "I won't pester you further with questions; I'm off to place your order."

Then she stepped away into the back, leaving Zarya alone with her empty bottle and the man snoring behind the bar under his hat.

Soon enough, the order came, along with the bill.

On the receipt, (which was paper, not many people had use for paper these days) there was a scribbled note from the waitress:

 _Stay safe out there protecting the world!_

 _Stargirl_

Zarya looked inquisitively at the note, then up at the waitress who was lightheartedly arguing with the manager of the diner.

Stargirl, hmm?

She had heard that name before, but couldn't quite place it in her memory.

She only knew two things for sure: the hash browns were delicious and she wanted to know more about the one who called herself Stargirl.


	3. Chapter 3

She was back again.

I pulled back from the kitchen window looking into the diner and took deep breaths to steady myself.

 _Okay, deep breaths! She's just a very gorgeous woman in armor with a huge particle gun._

I gritted my teeth and pushed the swinging door open, stepping into the diner with a bright grin.

This place was almost always abandoned, depraved of customers except in the evenings when ranchers and junkers came to drink their cares away. The only waitress working in this watering hole was…

BING BING BING! You guessed it: me.

So, I strode up to her, pad of paper and pen ready to take her order.

"What can I get'cha?"

The rehearsed phrase came easy to my lips, but I felt my breath falter when her green eyes met mine.

Hooooooh boooooooooy.

"I am thinking I will have the same order." She said.

 _Don't look at her lips, you sick bastard! Don't—_

I thought to myself as my sight slid down to her bright pink lips as she talked.

 _Damn it._

"You are staring," The Overwatch agent remarked amusedly with a quirked eyebrow and a smirk. She probably got this reaction a lot. Probably from a lot of other girls way cuter than me.

"Sorry! But that's some nice lipstick you got there, Doll. It suits you." I remarked casually, "Also, you caught me by complete surprise: I didn't think you'd come back 'round these parts."

Zarya smiled and leaned forward in her chair, "I could not wait for another taste of weak American beer." She joked.

"Oh yeah? Should I go ahead and write that down for your order?" I threatened with a grin matching her own

"Spare me," She chuckled.

I felt my heart attempt to fall off a cliff as I heard that beautiful low and bubbly noise.

"What can I actually get you, then?"

She sobered up and gathered her breakfast menu up. "Eggs with… how good is the bacon?"

"All bacon is equal, but some is more equal than others." I quipped, "Ours is, I would say, middle-ish equal."

Zarya laughed again, "Poking fun of Russian history with Animal Farm is like poking angry bear with sharp stick. I will have the bacon."

I smiled and jotted down her order and said it would be just a minute.

As I waited for the cook to finish with the sizzling bacon on the grill, I wondered for the first time if Zarya knew who I was and if she was sent by Overwatch to keep tabs on me.

I figured that she would probably have better things to do, being one helluva fighter and Russia's poster girl.

If Overwatch wanted to send a babysitter, why not send someone more discreet?

I took the platter of fresh bacon and eggs out to the front

"I looked into your name,"

"What?"

"Stargirl" Zarya pulled the receipt from a pocket wedged in the inside of her armored thigh and pointed to the signed name.

"Is this a… what do you call it? Pen-name?"

"It's my name." I said defensively, crossing my arms over the serving tray I held to my chest; as if that would stop her vivid green eyes from seeing into my soul.

"I look for it on the web and I find a novel by Spinelli. You like literature, da? Is this your real name?"

"Names get worn out. Every time I feel like changing it, I do. That's all." I said with a nonchalant shrug, my heart secretly pounding out of my chest.

"That is from the novel, is it not?" Zarya noted.

She clearly went and read the whole book after you signed your name with Stargirl. It made you feel happily embarrassed and slightly relived; she must not have known that Overwatch had had your name legally changed.

"Very well, Stargirl, sit and tell me what else you read."

An order. One that I wouldn't mind complying to if it meant more time with this beautifully dangerous woman.

I glanced over at the boss sleeping behind the counter.

"He won't mind." Zarya assured her after he glance.

I slid into the seat across from her and hesitantly began listing my favorite works of literature as Zarya ate and occasionally commented when our interests aligned.

An hour and a half passed this way and everything felt perfect.

"Ah," Zarya said, breaking the silence after finishing her fourth tall glass of milk. "I forgot to ask: have you seen woman about your height with violet eyes and dark skin with cyborg applications? Her name is Sombra."

The description rang no bells, "No, sorry, Doll."

Zarya nodded grimly, "I had hoped so. I would not want you having to get involved with her. She is dangerous, and she could hurt you." That last part sounded rather heartfelt, and tacked on to it were puppy eyes to boot.

Her eyes did actually look at me with a sort of worried look.

My heart felt funny again. She was worried. Shit.

"As if she could," I scoffed, "Boss can use a shotgun, I know self defense, and the lady of the house can patch us up real good. And if you keep dropping by, I reckon we'll all be mighty safe. 'Ms. Defender of Russia'." I teased, "And with your guns on the scene, you'd turn a bar knife fight into a gun fight."

Zarya laughed loudly and flexed proudly, "With guns like these; every fight is a gun fight!" She then kissed each of her biceps in jest.

I felt myself scream internally seeing the hot pink lipstick pressed in distinct lip marks on her navy blue armor.

HOT DAMN I WISH I WAS THAT ARMOR.

I must have been staring a bit too obviously, because Zarya just smirked and got up from her seat.

"I will be back later. For more than just the bacon, next time." She said as she slid me back the check.

She then sauntered out of there as I felt myself almost go weak at the knees.

I looked down to my copy of the receipt and blushed.

There, in bold pink, was a lip mark along with the words written in pen:

"From Russia, with love— Zarya."


End file.
